


Scars Make You Beautiful

by Finn4



Category: The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-22 09:44:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8281405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finn4/pseuds/Finn4
Summary: Cinna is offered work in between his Hunger Games festivities. His new charge will exhaust and excite him, but can he keep himself from getting emotionally involved...or is Finnick Odair too damaged to save?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fix here, hoping for some feedback as I continue to add to this story! It might get a little uneasy but hopefully it's an interesting ride...

The only thing worse than watching your tribute lose in the Hunger Games was watching them win.

Cinna remembered being told that when he was first apprenticing with a seamstress who hoped to groom him into the Capitol's most sought after designer. When he first pondered those words he wondered how that could be remotely true. Cinna was never the kind of man, or boy, that could stand by and not let the world outside of him in. And there was never a tribute that he didn't feel personally attached to, no matter how hard he had been warned against it. 

And Cinna hadn't known a victor to win. He had been just a child, still an apprentice, when Haymitch Abernathy of District 12 won the Hunger Games. And not a tribute since he had taken over the district's prep team had been a victor since. He grew weary of the annual battle to remain disconnected. The challenge to care so deeply for his work and his people, but yet to spend weeks growing close to one only to watch them die as part of a world whose hate controlled him.

Cinna was charming and coy enough to find himself in the graces of the Capitol and its darlings. He spent the year living in a manse of a workshop that was kept well appointed so long as he was able to decorate the wardrobes of many of the highest society. And when his tribute looked good, he looked good. And so would his fortune for the rest of that year.

He hated himself for taking a personal stock in the gamble of another innocent person's life...but that is what his world had become. A gamble.

So when the tribute from District Three won the 72nd Hunger Games, Cinna quietly mourned the loss of a friend and ally from home...but prepared himself to go about his work in the Capitol. Dressing and undressing the wealthy, not worried each night about falling asleep without the watchful eye of Capitol safety.

In fact, as he left the observation room where he and Effie Trinkett had silently watched their tribute sliced in half, Cinna wanted nothing more than to retreat to his apartment and forget everything he had seen. Or try to anyway.

But this year was different.

"Cinna! Darling, Cinna!" Effie called to him as he descended the stairs from the deck they had been watching and partying on. He stopped and turned to face her.

"My love, I have news...it seems President Snow has asked for a meeting with you. All good, I'm sure, all good!!" Her voice was bubbly and her hands clapped as she spoke. Her drunkenness only adding to her excitement. Cinna fought the urge to roll his eyes and instead only nodded appreciatively before changing his course to head for the President's quarters.

He approached the mansion like everyone did: cautiously. The guards took him inside and before long he was standing before a seated President Snow, whose wide and wild smile always made Cinna's knees lock and his jaw flex.

"Ahh, the pride and joy of District Twelve. Please, sit."

Cinna did so at his command, knowing enough to know it wasn't a request. He clasped his hands over a crossed knee and tried to remain calm.

"President Snow, I'm honored to see you, although a little confused as to why."

Snow chuckled slyly at Cinna's inquisition. But then he nodded a shaky, white head before raising his eyebrows and conceding.

"I have a job for you."

Cinna's heart sank deep into his chest. Snow's jobs were never pleasant and they were never offers. They were orders. Cinna pretended not to know...everyone did.

"There is a very famous young victor from District Four. A beautiful young man, in fact, that has become quite a hit with the people of this city...."

"Finnick Odair."

Cinna answered the riddle before he was asked and Snow's face lit up. Cinna knew Finnick. Everyone did. Well, knew of him. He was the Capitol playboy. Famous for bedding three, sometimes four women in an evening. He had charmed his way into the hearts of most everyone in Panem. Most of which he had actually convinced that he was madly in love with them and would do anything for them. Cinna knew of Finnick Odair. His conquests were as legendary as he was.

"Yes, Finnick Odair. You see he will be spending more time in the Capitol in the next year and I need him to have a prep team that includes the best of the best. Now of course I realize your allegiance lies with District Twelve, but I wondered if in your down time you may be able to fashion some fine pieces of work for Finnick. What as he entertains and such."

Snow's wink let Cinna know just the kind of entertainment he was talking about and Cinna raised a gold lined eyebrow.

"I would be honored to help in whatever way I can, of course."

Cinna answered. With a lie, of course, but he knew Snow wouldn't accept a refusal. Although the fact remained that Cinna would not for a moment enjoy being pushed around by a preener like Finnick Odair. For every inch of him that was well tanned and well carved...he was an entitled prick that no one could stand. His stunning looks would only get him so far with Cinna, and playing nice with him would be a constant battle.

"Good!" Snow replied, overjoyed, before handing Cinna a gold stamped envelope. Cinna turned it over in his hand before opening it.

"It gives you the details of his arrangements. What you may need, how he might prefer to be dressed...."

Cinna listened to Snow's words as he read over the card. Instructions, indeed. The card said less about Finnick and more about his 'client' who remained nameless:

-client requests the color blue  
-client requests no undergarments be worn  
-client requests no body hair  
-client requests no evidence of prior bruising  
-client requests that no prior efforts be taken to dull pain or endurance

Cinna could feel his brow grow deeper and deeper as he read and the instructions got darker and darker.

"I'm sorry," Cinna bravely voiced, "his client? Who is Finnick's client?"

Snow laughed and turned.

"You'll be on a need to know basis, my friend. The question is...who isn't his client? Finnick is my most popular possession. You'll prepare him to be sold to people that will pay anything for his time, and his body."

Cinna took a giant swallow and nodded.

"Like I said, President Snow. I am honored that you think enough of my work to give me such a responsibility." Cinna hoped the thick layer of sarcasm wasn't discernible. He was about to tuck the card back into the envelope when he noticed there was a thick red stripe at the bottom of it that highlighted the words 'AFTERCARE.'

"Sir?"

Cinna asked and Snow turned to face him, eyes raised in anticipation.

"What does aftercare entail?"

Snow pursed his lips and tossed a thought or two in his head before sitting back down behind his desk.

"You see, some of Finnick Odair's clients can be, well, aggressive. Certain ones we know in advance will require some maintenance afterwards. While we hope that his face won't get injured, you'll be there to insure his marketable good looks stay in tact. Am I clear?"

"Clear, sir, of course." Cinna choked down the hatred he felt for the man and cooly replied. He bowed graciously and turned to exit.

"Cinna," Snow stopped him in his tracks by calling his name. He turned to listen, "I'm sure I don't need to tell you that all of this is confidential. You will tell no one."

"Of course, President."

Cinna bowed once more and made an exit as swiftly as possible.

He hurried for the elevator and glanced at his watch. There would be no time to go home and mourn. It was coming on four in the afternoon and Finnick Odair would be in his prep team chambers by five.

Cinna wasn't sure which one of them was in for a longer night.


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, look at this shitstorm."

Cinna groaned to himself as he re-entered a room he had hoped not to see for a little while. But what was worse, it was in absolutely no condition for him to work. The remains of sketches and fabrics strewn about, his staff all but gone, and new trunk loads of materials sitting unopened were littered about the room. 

Several new faces mulled about, the usual Capitol mercenaries...flitting and floating and gossiping and eyeballing. They were attempting to clean up the mess that Cinna just stood in the middle of. Hands on his hips. Toe tapping. Biting the inside of his lip. Wondering what on earth could possibly be coming down the pike.

"So you're the one everyone is talking about?"

A salty, sultry voice came floating over his shoulder from behind him, beckoning him to turn. It was followed by a slow tongue clicking of disapproval.

Finnick Odair.

As Cinna turned in slow motion, Finnick arched an eyebrow and met his gaze, but only briefly. Cinna uncontrollably let his eyes wander from Finnick's, down past his bare navel and then get lost somewhere along the way. Cinna had seen Finnick, sure. Who hadn't. But in person his surfer boy charm and swagger was all the more appealing. Finnick cleared his throat to regain his attention.

"Cinna. I presume? I guess I thought you'd be...taller." Finnick dripped sex, taking a few steps towards the older man to close the space between them as he offered an insult that still managed to roll off his tongue like flirtation. He continued walking when he met Cinna, brushing past him to the coo of several women nearby, working diligently on preparing a dressing room for him.

"Ladies..." He sneered and awful grin, matched it with a wink, and both women reacted with audible approval and child like giddiness. Cinna could barely keep his eyes from rolling. Finnick had made his way to a couch across the room. He lounged on it and it's blue velvet made his golden skin and sea colored eyes all the more vibrant. The shirt that he wore hung open around his chest and Cinna, who was taking it in, tried to disguise it as work. 

And he was determined to keep things just that: work.

"You'll be wearing blue tonight, I take it, so I thought maybe something similar to what you have on. But...."

"Bluer?" Finnick finished the question as he rose and took his white shirt off, tossing it to the couch. He walked to Cinna, who was struck by his immodesty and cockiness. He knew he'd be cocky. But this was absurd. He felt under attack and it unnerved him. 

"I'll take a quick measurement."

Cinna moved to his table and grabbed his tape measure before pulling it gently through his fingers and stretching it at arms length as he moved behind Finnick.

"Arms up. Please."

Cinna requested, careful to remember his place.

"Such manners..." Finnick replied through a smile as he raised his arms level, his muscular upper back supporting a long wingspan. Cinna's fingers grazed his shoulders and back as he ran the tape across Finnick's skin.

"Lovely. Turn."

Cinna commanded Finnick, who obeyed even without the aforementioned manners. Cinna knelt in front of Finnick to measure his inseam and even though his light brown skin would mask a blush he felt his cheeks get hot. His nose was just a breath away from Finnick's groin and he was sure he even saw it twitch as he placed a finger over his thigh to run the tape down the inside of his leg. Cinna's face was fiery, and he felt himself let his eyes linger for too long on the outline of Finnick's cock through his pants. And it didn't go unnoticed.

"You like what you see?" Finnick chortled slightly, sensing Cinna's embarrassment immediately. Cinna rose to his feet, unwilling to be put in his place by an arrogant twenty one year old who seemed to think he ruled the world.

"I was taking an inseam measurement, you're the one with an erection. Maybe you like what YOU see?" Cinna rose directly to Finnick's face in a blatant display of machismo, wrapping his tape around his knuckles as he did. Finnick raised his brow and and bit at the inside of his lip. His voice came at Cinna hot and heavy.

"Maybe I do..."

And his reaction knocked Cinna right back off of his game, making him stutter quietly for a moment and then rock backwards on his heels to escape Finnick's glance. Or worse, what has grown into a wide, white toothy grin. A smile that could sink ships.

Cinna moved to his table and busied himself.

"Go amuse someone else, boy. I'll have this for you in a minute."

Cinna was both unnerved and annoyed. He was used to handling frightened teenagers whose entire lives who had been taken from them and whom he had to groom to be slaughtered for public enjoyment. Not some uppity peacock who seemed to think he had managed to outdo the Capitol. Cinna had a growing desire to show him what the real world looked like even after only a few minutes of his company.

But even Cinna, who could remain cool and collected in the dizziest of storms was rattled by Finnick Odair. Undone not only by his striking appearance but an underlying charm that threatened to disarm anyone he came in contact with. Keeping his eyes on the prize would prove challenging. 

He heard Finnick saunter out of the room after several long moments when the younger of the two simply stood, hands crossed against his bare chest, watching the man in black go about his work as if he wasn't there. Being ignored wasn't a familiar feeling for Finnick.

Cinna was able to piece things together, allowing himself to forget that no matter how beautiful the drape of the fabric or how just-right the pants might cling to Finnick's muscular but lean frame, their destiny was a pile in the floor and they would come back in bad shape if thy came back at all.

When Cinna emerged to greet the rest of his team, suit draped loosely over his elbow, Finnick was being fluffed and rubbed down. Like some elaborate play thing. His hair was still tousled but slick, his bronze skin irridescent. He stood from his chair in nothing but underwear as Cinna requested his crew make themselves scarce. 

They flung from the room as if by a sling shot.

Finnick turned to look at at Cinna, his eyes landing on the material he was carrying. Cinna held the items up one by one, only mildly relieved to not have to tell him how to use them to survive battle.

"This shirt, in this blue, should fit you perfectly and be comfortable as well. We will drape it with this golden belt and cuffs. Next time I'll have a little more preparation. So nothing spectacular. The pants are a slim fit. They should fit well, but..."

Cinna stopped, unsure of how to choose his next words. Finnick watched him suffer for a moment, always amused that someone could become so easily discombobulated.

"You won't have room for much under them, and it's my understanding that was a request."

Cinna was impressed at how the words came. Much more thread together out loud than they had been in his mind.

The words hadn't so much as left his mouth and Finnick had dug his thumbs into the waistband of his dark grey underwear and eased them down over his slim hips and let them fall. He took two steps out of them, and towards Cinna. He stood like some soft of Greek sculpture. Chiseled and posed and perfectly unafraid of being naked in front of a near stranger. Cinna was not so comfortable, and fumbled over the buckle on the pants allowing it to be a welcome distraction and reason not to stare.

Finnick finally reached for the pants and met Cinna's hand, with every intention of yanking the pants from him and doing it himself. But instead Cinna's other hand snapped to his wrist and turned it. Stopping him from attempting to take over and more importantly, to shame Cinna for not being able to do his job.

"I got this." Cinna hissed as he turned Finnick's hand over, pulling his fingers from the fabric which he accidentally proceeded to drop. Finnick's smile turned into a giggle and he ran his tongue over his teeth flirtatiously. Cinna felt himself bristle at it and lowered his eyes from Finnick's until they fell on the hand he was clasping. He had Finnick's strong arm by the wrist and he noted immediately a distinct scar there. Vertical. Along the veins in his wrist. A serious attempt at a suicide, not a cry for help. Cinna's brain had started to reel and process this latest information, as Finnick pulled back hard...freeing himself from Cinna's grasp and putting space between you.

"That's...some scar." Cinna watched Finnick's face as he talked, non-verbally communicating that he knew exactly where that scar had come from. Finnick didn't flinch, but puffed up his chest...still standing naked in front of him.

"It's none of your business." For the first time Finnick's voice wasn't flirtatious or coy, it was commanding and stern. Cinna bent to pick up the pants before walking them to Finnick and holding them out.

"Actually, President Snow made your body my business." Cinna was impressed by his own witty comeback until...

"President Snow made my body everybody's business, now didn't he?"

Finnick shut Cinna down cold, interrupting him and halting him from any further pushing. Cinna felt the bottom of his stomach drop with the tinge of guilt.

"Thanks for the clothes. I think you're job is done here."

Cinna had turned some kind of corner he wasn't sure he intended to and it must have been painted all over his face because Finnick immediately let the smile creep sexily back over his.

"I mean, you're welcome to stand there and watch me dress. Maybe that's your thing..."

Cinna felt his head get hot and he immediately attempted to saunter away. Before he had let himself totally out of Finnick's room he turned to offer him a reminder.

"I'll be here waiting when you get back, that was President Snow's request as well."

Finnick was pulling his pants up over his hips, finally (for the sake of Cinna's train of thought) concealing himself. He shook his head slightly as he grabbed for his shirt.

"That's funny." He offered.

Cinna cocked a curious eyebrow and leaned against the door frame.

"What's funny?" he shot back, crossing his arms.

"You said 'President Snow's request.' We both know there's no such thing. You're as much a prisoner here as I am."

Cinna studied Finnick for a moment, wondering if that was his callous way of admitting he was being prostituted out. Maybe he had become too cocky and self assured to let himself just come out and say it. So Cinna sighed a little and clicked his jaw.

"Well someone's got to babysit you, I guess this time around it's me." Cinna was glad to see Finnick smile at his words. In fact he almost blushed and lowered his head to avert his eyes slightly. Cinna offered a last comfort, continuing, "Look...be safe tonight. Try to take care of yourself...even if it's just so I don't have to."

Cinna nodded at him and Finnick nodded along in quiet understanding before pulling his shirt over his shoulders and slipping past Cinna in the doorway, casually brushing him which unnerved them both.

Cinna turned to watch him leave with a familiar feeling of guilt and loss usually reserved for his district's tributes. He had come to hate that helpless pit of a feeling.

He walked back to his work tables, intent to fill the passing hours with drawing, sketching, looking through what he already had and what he needed to send out. Instead he found two large metallic trays with instructions left by someone who much have been on his team.

There was gauze, two bags of IV fluids, some pills, some ointments. Cinna was curiously looking over it. And thumbing through instructions.

"Not every night is like this," a female voice came from behind him, startling him. 

"Snow has a nasty of habit of welcoming Finnick back to town in some pretty sadistic ways. Likes to remind him it's his penance for his quiet time at home in Victor's Village. It can get a little...intense."

She shivered a little as she spoke and then showed herself to the door.

"Good luck..." she called back. Cinna waved her off and took a sign of relief as he heard the door slide shut. He silently wondered why Snow was putting him in this position and then immediately cursed himself. He knew now, more than anything, it could obviously be much, much worse.

He sat at his table and tried to concentrate on his sketching. But all he could draw was the naked frame of Finnick Odair. He stared at it. And as he drew...the detail of the tousled bronze mane, the swimmers physique, the crystalline ocean colored eyes...he found himself focusing on the vacant expression of the face he drew. Not the gleaming Adonis of the Capitol's Finnick Odair. But a face that was lost and confused and trapped. 

Cinna knew this was going to be much, much harder than he realized.


	3. Chapter 3

Cinna had all but fallen asleep at his table, leaning into his pencil sketches so much that both his hands and cheeks were covered in lead. He would occasionally glance at the time or out the window to the bustling Capitol city below and then try to work, but his mind was lost.

It wasn't altogether different than watching the games. He would find himself not wanting to watch, but then unable to look away. Whatever scenario that he could dream up in his mind was always worse than the reality anyway. And this night had that same dank kind of lull: try not to think about what was going on, but find yourself unable to focus on very little else. 

Cinna heard noise outside of the room and a code being entered to open the door. He quickly closed his notebooks and his his drawings, tucking them neatly into a drawer. He collected himself and sauntered towards the door apprehensively.

Finnick slid in by himself, leaving whomever had accompanied him outside as the door slammed to a close behind him. He didn't seem to notice Cinna at first, only turning to face the closed door and place his own hand, and then forehead, squarely on it.

Cinna was unsure of what to say, so he stood for a moment trying to assess any damage. Other than noting that Finnick's gold belt and cuffs were gone, he didn't look like he was in need of much repair.

Then he turned around.

He still didn't lift his eyes to meet Cinna's, even as he raised a shaking hand towards his mouth. He caught a stream of blood that was escaping from a pretty deep split in his lower lip. Cinna noticed his hands were bloodied, too, and he couldn't tell from where. He didn't have much more time to observe before Finnick managed to raise his face.

"What can I do?" The words escaped Cinna's mouth before he knew they were coming. It wasn't in his nature to see a wounded bird and not rush to its rescue. So he posed his question again when it was met only by Finnick's silence, "tell me what I can do."

Finnick laughed to himself, shaking his head slowly which seemed to cause him to wince as well.

"For starters, you can stop looking at me like that."

Cinna could tell that Finnick's voice was tired. It was strained and low...with a breathy gasp that wasn't just a result of his usual appeal.  
Cinna lowered his head in apology and went to grab a metal tray from the table. He heard Finnick move into the room and a sudden hiss of pain erupted from him, enough to cause Cinna alarm.

He was struggling to take his shirt off, so Cinna again worked on impulse and went to him. Without saying anything he eased the sleeves off one at a time, noticing a sheen of similar coloring on Finnick's torso. There was deep blue brushing on his hips. Along his spine. His shoulders. And when Cinna spun him slightly to remove the shirt completely, he revealed a collarbone and neck stained purple and black...the imprint of two hands around his neck. And they weren't small.

"I'm sorry this happened." Cinna heard himself whisper as Finnick adjusted slowly to help the shirt slip off. It seemed to give him great relief when it was gone. He lowered his head and attempted to roll it towards his shoulder but when he winced, Cinna stopped him.

"Lie down, I'll see what we have here that you can use."

Finnick raised an arm and pointed to a cobalt blue jar.

"That one. It's for bruising."

Cinna's eyes followed and grabbed the ointment. Sure enough those were the instructions. It would, apparently, diffuse any bruising or discoloration within 24 hours. And clearly this was not the first time Finnick had experienced it. Cinna grabbed it and twisted it open as he approached Finnick, dipping his two fingers into the salve before asking Finnick where he should start.

"I haven't had a good look at the damage. Wherever you think I need it." The sound of Finnick's broken speech was almost enough for Cinna to request he not speak anymore, but he enjoyed Finnick's conversation so.

Cinna walked behind Finnick to start on his back. He applied liberal amounts to all the bruising and Finnick moaned as it worked...heating against his skin. 

"Can you lift your head?" Cinna asked as he rounded the boy and grew sick at the sight of his neck. 

"Who would do this...you're lucky you weren't knocked unconscious."

Finnick smiled in spite of himself, eyes towards the sky.

"Who says I wasn't?"

Cinna tried to block that out and go about his work.

"Are we done? I need to lay down."  
Finnick's request was pure...and true. Cinna had noticed his legs shaking. He especially noticed when Finnick placed a hand in his shoulder to steady himself. 

Cinna closed the jar, thinking he may be done before he realized he hadn't been able to see Finnick's whole form. He looked over him briefly before asking.

"Do you want to take this? In case there are other places you need it?" Cinna held it out gingerly, his fingers playing at it as he tried desperately to not make Finnick feel uneasy. It was the least he could do to protect his modesty.

Finnick closed the space between them, even on shaky legs that stumbled slightly...he still stalked like a cat moving in on its prey. He took a hold of Cinna's free hand and pulled at it slightly, placing his open palm directly over his own groin, pushing his cock into Cinna's hand as he held it there. Cinna was too in shock to react immediately.

"You sure you don't want to do it for me?" Finnick purred, but it was sad. There was something morose about it, not tempting like he usually was. Cinna yanked his hand free and stepped back, both hands in the air as Finnick stumbled slightly.

"Hey...I'm not sure why you think I'm here. But I'm here to help. Not treat you like you belong to me like everyone else seems to think they can. So you can cool that stuff with me. Be yourself."

Cinna sensed for the first time how deeply fractured Finnick Odair was. He was broken, bleeding and exhausted and still his comfort zone laid in throwing his body at someone.

Finnick watched him speak as if he were speaking a foreign language he couldn't quite process, and then he looked down over his body slowly, staggering slightly.

"Be myself. I don't know who that is anymore."

It was a moment of clarity for them both. Finnick took the blue jar and made his way to his room, shutting the door that had before then always been opened. Cinna stood in the empty room for a moment. Not sure what to do next. There was a bedroom. A bathroom. Was Finnick expected to stay there? Was he? Because all he wanted to do was get the hell out of there. But his feet wouldn't move. He moved back to the metal tray before deciding he would leave it outside of Finnick's door and prepare to spend what was left of the night on his couch. As he lowered the tray to the floor, he heard Finnick's low whimpering cry escaping it. He stood for a minute, wanting so badly to help but having no idea what to say. He stood silent for a moment. Listening to the gutteral sobs that Finnick was trying so desperately to mask. Finally, he wrapped his knuckles against the door.

"Hey. I'm out here, if you need me."

The crying subsided but no answer came. Cinna waited a long moment before grabbing a long ream of fabric to work as a blanket. He slunk down into the couch as he lowered the lights.

"Thank you."

Finnick's voice floated from his room. 

It wouldn't be the last night Cinna would spend fighting the urge to comfort him. Nor would it be the last night Finnick Odair would spend crying, but not trusting the affections of anyone in his world...especially The Capitol darling designer who would serve as his new bodyguard.


	4. Chapter 4

The morning came too soon and Cinna was barely awake when he heard shuffling at the door. Some of his team had arrived and were busying themselves with things. Not the least of which was helping to display an enormous amount of food on the long dining table in the adjacent room. If it didn't smell so amazing, Cinna may have rolled over and blocked the sound out to pray for another hour of sleep. 

But instead he managed to stagger up from his couch, still in the black pants and tshirt he had fallen asleep in the night before. Not being able to go home didn't suit him. He walked to the table to peruse the mornings offering before finding himself staring t the still closed door to where Finnick slept. He hated to bother him, but he knew that he could easily pass it off as part of his new babysitting duties. He didn't knock on the door, instead just pulled it back slightly only to find Finnick's blue eyes already wide and staring at him from his bed. 

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were awake...I thought you might want to eat."

Cinna felt only slightly bad about barging in. Finnick rolled under the covers on the bunk he was tucked into until he laid on his back, stretching his arms above his head. Cinna tilted his head to watch, impressed that there was no physical evidence of the prior night's trauma.

"I'm not hungry. You go ahead and have mine."

Finnick purred through a long stretch. Cinna sneered.

"You need to eat. Take your time but you're not getting out of it."

Cinna barked and order and the slid the door closed again, going to take his seat at the table. He waited patiently for Finnick, wrapping his fingers on the table...drumming to music only he could hear. Too much time had passed and he was about to rise to encourage Finnick again when the door slid open and his lithe, half dress frame slipped through it.

Finnick rubbed his eyes as he sat across from Cinna, throwing a leg over the arm of a chair and lounging in it like some sort of King. He looked over the food, unimpressed, before chugging a glass of water and staring passively at Finnick.

"I won't ask how you slept..." Cinna was determined to make small talk. Finnick smiled coyly.

"Good."

They sat in silence for a long while before Cinna had had all he could stand.

"You have to eat. You know that right?"

Finnick only leaned further back in his chair, challenging Cinna.

"Is that why you're here? Did they tell you to force feed me? Make sure I don't try to starve myself to death?" Finnick oozed sarcasm and resentment towards Cinna that either of them could either deny or blame him for. Cinna leaned forward in his seat as Finnick took another swig of his water.

"Maybe they did. Look, I don't know anything more about Snow's plans than you do. But I know this: the people you love...your family...they are only useful to him as bait while you are alive. You do something stupid he has no reason to keep any of them alive. So you wanna take care of them? You better start by taking care of yourself."

Cinna's lecture was well thought out and planned, not surprisingly since he had spent a good chunk of the night thinking about how to give it. And just maybe, it was working. Finnick slid his leg off the arm of the chair and sat forward. He cleared his throat and sat up tall, pulling a napkin from the table and formally fluffing it in the air before draping it over his lap. He daintily grabbed a sort of a pastry from the tray nearest to him and placed it on his plate before raising his fork and knife to cut it. Not taking his eyes of Cinna, he cut a small piece and raised it to his mouth, popping it past his lips and swallowing it while before pushing his chair back to stand, tossing his napkin on the table.

"Happy?"

Finnick's faux compliance infuriated Cinna, who rocked back in his chair and crossed his arms as Finnick headed back for his room, intent to slam the door like a spoiled child. Cinna was going to beat him to it. He rose quickly from his seat and lunged behind Finnick, closing in on him just as he reached his room. Finnick was alarmed by his proximity and turned just as Cinna slid the door closed behind him. Forcefully. 

"Look, I'm trying to help you." Cinna hissed a whisper as Finnick backed away from him, unnerved by his presence for the first time.

"You've been dealt a shitty hand. I get that. Lots of us have. I'm not going to pretend to know what you've been through. Hell, winning these games at 14? But you need to hang on a little longer. You need to fight...a little longer." Cinna was surprised that he still held Finnick's attention so he closed the space between them and whispered in a low hum, "there are people. Other people. There's a plan to end the Capitol. You can be a part of it, really save your family. End this torture. But you need to fight. And you need to hold on."

Finnick studied Cinna's face...he was buying it, and there were questions he would need answered.

"Who? Who are these people?"

"District 13..." Cinna answered cautiously.

"13 is gone..." Finnick's confusion grew.

"It's good you think that. Everyone needs to. But there are people here, too. Some of your...clients. You can get information....you can take this pain and make it worth something..." Cinna took Finnick by the wrists, turning them until his scars were face up, "something more than this. You're better than this, and I'll help you."

Finnick didn't pull his hands away this time, he let Cinna hold them...even as his grip tightened around them. Finnick stood frozen in his grasp.

"You're in control, Finnick Odair. Fight back. I saw you fight at 14. Fight now. Show me."

Finnick tugged against Cinna's grasp, surprised by how firm it was. He struggled further and still got nowhere. Finally, he turned his arms quickly, flinging one free and using the other to twist Cinna's arm behind his back. Cinna reacted quickly and pulled himself from Finnick's hold. The two of them struggled against each other in a flurry of arms and torsos, trapped in the small bunk of Finnick's quarters until Finnick had managed to overcome Cinna...pinning him to the wall. They lingered there, out of breath, staring at each other.

Cinna's heart pounded in his chest and he wasn't sure if he imagined Finnick moving closer or if he actually did but he was overcome. He lifted his head from the cold stone of the wall, which was all the movement he needed to find Finnick's mouth. He slammed his face forward, kissing Finnick even as he was pinned against the wall under his weight and Finnick wasted no time kissing back. It was raw and real and desperate. His tongue pulses into Finnick's mouth like it was trying to find another way out. Finnick pressed his warm body harder into Cinna's and rocked against him slightly, only adding heat to their kiss. Finnick dropped his hold on Cinna, who instinctively backed the much younger man across the room until his back was against the opposite wall. He felt Finnick soften his posture beneath him, submitting to his advances. Cinna's head spun and his ears rang and he pulled himself from Finnick and backed into the center of the room. Finnick stood gasping against the wall, watching Cinna reel away from him. 

"I'm sorry..." Cinna managed to whisper before covering his mouth and opening the door to exit. He heard Finnick shut it be hind him but couldn't bring himself to turn and watch.

"Damnit." He whispered. Angry that his lust had gotten the best of him, that he may have blown his chance to gain Finnick Odair's support of the rebel cause...but mostly guilty that he had just been the aggressor that he was damning the night before. Finnick had been trained to give in to people like Cinna, and here he had done it, too. Crossed a line he couldn't uncross.

He damned his still lingering erection and immediately dreaded having to see him again.

So he went about placing his sketches in his assistances' possession...hoping that if they could fashion his outfit for that evening, Cinna would spare himself another awkward encounter with the young man who was slowly taking over his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *adult themes become adult acts...stop at this point if that's too much for you!*

As guilty as Cinna felt leaving, he did just that. He was mentally and physically exhausted. He whipped up something for Finnick and left the simple design with his team, having no idea what his personal requests would be for that evening. And not really caring to know.

By the time he made it home it was late afternoon and a storm had settled over the Capitol that made it feel like dusk. The loud thunder had always been one of Cinna's favorite sounds, so he sat motionless in his apartment, watching the dark clouds roll overhead and listening to the gurgle of thunder.

It wasn't long before he had let himself drift to sleep, ignoring the shower he had planned on taking. The knock on the door to his apartment went unnoticed at first, blending into the thunder until it became louder and more pronounced. He wasn't used to visitors so he woke with a slight alarm and studied the clock before heading to the door. He pulled back the lock and slid the door open, revealing the soaking wet, casually dressed frame of Finnick Odair. Cinna was so taken aback that he stood staring at Finnick in the doorway, leaving him stranded outside in the pouring rain.

"I think you have the wrong address..." Cinna remarked slyly, noting that Finnick was not dressed in anything near what he had sketched and was certainly not at the right location for a 'personal call.'

"Do you think maybe I could come in anyway? I'd hate to melt out here...." Finnick spoke loudly over the thunder and gradually heavier rain drops.

Cinna muttered an obscenity under his breath before stepping aside and letting Finnick slip in. In loose fitting clothes, a heavy naval peacoat and rope necklace...Finnick looked more like a school boy that a victor. 

He stood and took in his surroundings. Cinna's apartment was remarkably non Capitol and homey. Books everywhere, mostly on the current trends and fashions but also of history...warm furniture and cozy appointments that were a contrast to the shiny and cold Capitol homes Finnick was used to visiting. It was welcoming.

"Sorry, everything is a mess. I don't usually have visitors." Cinna was cleaning and pushing things out of the way as he spoke, until Finnick smiled and turned to him. 

"Don't be sorry. It's perfect. It's a home. This is what homes are supposed to look like. Lived in."

There was a hint of longing in Finnick's voice that Cinna couldn't ignore. They stood in silence a moment as Finnick's eyes landed on sketches on the table...that had been used to dress District Four's most recent fallen tributes. Finnick traced his fingers over them lightly.

"I'm sorry about your tributes. They were brave. Both of them."

Cinna nodded silently and moved towards Finnick to look over the drawings.

"They never had a chance, either of them." Finnick watched Cinna as he spoke and was touched by the genuine sympathy that Cinna had for the people of that district. He studied his face before speaking again.

"Maybe it's better this way. Coming out of that arena in one piece may be the only thing worse than being killed in it."

The two quietly bonded over a mutual loss. Cinna's voice came, hushed.

"Is that what you wish? Do you wish you would have died in the arena?" 

Finnick's eyes gelled over slightly as he smiled to cover it before looking away quickly.

"Every day." He answered almost lightly. What a sad state of affairs.

"Finnick why are you here? Is there no one waiting for you tonight..."

Finnick walked away from Cinna, his eyes still trailing the walls, learning about Cinna from his surroundings.

"Amazingly no. Sometimes I get an entire night to myself. But it only means I'll have to take three or more tomorrow...." Finnick spoke so blasé about it that Cinna was amazed. It was just that much a part of him. Finnick stopped and turned to Cinna.

"I came to apologize."

"No no, it was my fault...I shouldn't have..." Cinna interrupted, only to be stopped again by Finnick.

"Not for this morning. I wanted to apologize for being an asshole to you. I misjudged you. You're not like everyone else here, I see that now."

"Neither are you, no matter what they try to make you believe."

Finnick was breaking down walls that Cinna had built ages ago, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was doing the same thing.

"Can I ask you something?" Cinna's voice had gained strength and volume.

"Sure."

There was something different about Finnick, about the way he spoke even. He was reserved...almost shy. Almost...real. 

"You've been a victor since you were 14. How long has this been going on? How long has Snow...done this to you?"

Finnick watched Cinna as he posed his question and then broke his eye contact to scan the room, not sure how to answer the question or if he wanted to at all. He turned from Cinna, studying the books on the shelves, running his finger absent mindedly over them.

"I guess that makes it...seven years, doesn't it?"

Cinna's heart sank. He had definitely gotten the impression that the Finnick he knew - the Finnick the world knew - had been at this game for awhile. But the idea of Snow manipulating such a young boy made his stomach turn and his skin crawl all at once. Finnick finally turned to Cinna through the silence.

"You're looking at me like that again...."

Cinna tried to mask whatever it was he was feeling but he never did have much of a poker face. He felt sorry for Finnick. For all he had been through, for misjudging him, for crossing the line, for not regretting crossing the line.

"You're soaking wet..." Cinna artfully changed the subject, moving towards Finnick and helping him out of his heavy navy coat. Admiring it as he did.

"Why did you kiss me last night?" Finnick's words burst from his lips unapologetically and caught Cinna off guard. He was still clinging to the dripping coat, tending to it to avoid the question. So Finnick prodded once more, "was it because you know I can't say no?"

"No." Cinna's voice came clear and strong, making sure to put that theory of Finnick's to bed. And quickly. He said it several more times.

"Why then?"

Finnick was not going to let him off the hook. Neither of them moved away from each other, even if tiny voices inside of them urged them to find protection in distance.

"I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you."

Cinna felt his face grow hot, his ears tingled and he couldn't look Finnick in the eye until he spoke again.

"Then why did you stop?"

Cinna's head spun. He had a million different answers but none of them would bubble to the surface to save him. And he knew Finnick would demand an answer. He cleared his throat subtly.

"I stopped because I knew you'd think you couldn't say no. And I wouldn't want you to ever feel that way with me."

Cinna gathered the courage to look back into Finnick's eyes. There was sadness there but something he hadn't seen before: trust. He watched as Finnick inhaled deeply.

"I don't feel that way now."

There was a long pause that felt like centuries to them both before Finnick took a step into Cinna, who tossed the dripping wet coat to the couch. He closed in on Finnick until the wetness of his clothes was bleeding into Cinna's own shirt and pants. Cinna brushed a wet hair from Finnick's forehead in an act that felt more intimate than he had intended.

Finnick leaned into him and instead of closing his mouth over Cinna's, he tucked his head into the crook of Cinna's neck, breathing hot against his skin until he couldn't take it anymore and kissed the warm skin of his neck. Cinna moaned and closed his arms around the damp small of Finnick's back, pulling him tighter as he reared his head back to enjoy Finnick's touch. Finnick reached his hands gently between them and started tugging at the buttons of his own soaked shirt until it hung open. Cinna reached up to pull it off his shoulders before taking a step back to pull his own black shirt over his head. They admired each other briefly before closing the space again, melting together into a lazy embrace that neither of them knew they needed. 

"You don't have to do this, Finnick..." Cinna whispered in his ear as they stood, locked together, surrounded by only the sound outside of the growing storm.

"I do...." Cinna moved back cautiously, eyeing the victor who was easily ten years his junior. He furrowed his brow and Finnick continued, "I want to know how it feels...with someone who actually gives a shit about me." His plea was simple and genuine. Cinna's heart sunk at the idea of this boy having never known that feeling. He had a new found purpose and he was ready. Because in the short amount of time he had known Finnick, he had grown to care for him. To give a shit.

He kept his eyes on Finnick even as he moved his hands over his taught stomach to the button of his pants, opening them and lowering them enough to expose Finnick, who shuddered initially at the cool air on his hot, damp skin.

Finnick moaned slightly as Cinna closed his hand around his rapidly growing cock. Cinna expertly stroked him in his hand, moving slowly from the base of Finnick's length to the tip. Cinna felt his own erection throb in his pants. He started tugging harder at Finnick, careful to use restraint on the victor who was used to being handled far too rough. Cinna watched as Finnick closed his eyes and bit his lip hard, moaning to himself as his hips fell into a soft, smooth rhythm...pumping quietly into Cinna's tight grasp. 

Finnick's eyes had barely fluttered open as he reached for the buckle of Cinna's pants, undoing them deftly and sliding his hand inside. Cinna cried his name out as Finnick placed his open palm along Cinna's impressive length and moved against him. Finnick was all but bucking into Cinna's fist and within moments Cinna was thrusting equally hard at Finnick. Cinna felt his knees go weak as Finnick ran his thumb over the leaking tip of his cock and murmured how badly he wanted it. Hands still all over each other, each of them slowly getting slick from the other's precum...each of them beginning to wonder how long they could last...Cinna moved them cautiously through the room until the back of his knees hit the couch. He eased them down in tandem until they sat beside each other, mounting speed and strength as they jerked each other off...totally lost in each other and in the moment. Finnick arched his back and for the first time Cinna let himself just get lost in how sexy and appealing he really was. If the Capitol had forced him to create a persona, it was based in part on an undeniable sexual presence in him. And Cinna couldn't remember the last time he felt comfortable with another person so fast...male or female. He rolled to his side and cradled his body against Finnick's, who buried his head into Cinna's neck and cried out.

"I want to come...." Finnick begged in a sexy whine that about sent Cinna into orbit. Cinna didn't say a word but instead gave several long hard tugs to Finnick's flesh, daring him not to explode. Finnick whimpered Cinna's name as his cock exploded between them, covering Cinna's hand as it leaked, Finnick's spent body twitching between them as the waves of his orgasm took over. And the feel of his cock pulsing pushed Cinna over the edge, too. Finnick pulled at his cock, rubbing the head of it against his stomach which is where Cinna unloaded his seed. He watched as he covered Finnick's still shaken body, running himself all over his abdomen...not wanting it to stop. Ever.

The night was closing in on them under the guise of a storm, and they lay there with each other...spent and exhausted in more ways than one. Cinna grabbed lazily at his shirt and used it to gently wipe them both clean...although he was still desperately craving that shower. Finnick was passing out soundly at his side and he wondered how long it had been since he had real sleep. 

Cinna watched him drift into slumber, content that he had brought him some level of peace and understanding. He felt a smile creep over his lips as he observed him. Overcome with the desire to protect him now. He pulled for a nearby blanket to cover them and peacefully drifted off to sleep. 

Their sleep was hard and sound. And after several, several hours...the sun broke through the clouds and streamed into Cinna's apartment. He slowly woke and immediately noticed the empty, cool space at his side.

Cinna sat up quickly. He noticed the navy peacoat was gone, and so was its' owner.


End file.
